


Dibellas Champion (NSFW Interlude) The Nightmare

by Samas34



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samas34/pseuds/Samas34
Summary: Ingrid Stormborn, the Champion of Dibella, experiences a debauched fuelled nightmare of the Gilded Circle. But was it just a dream?!
Kudos: 1





	Dibellas Champion (NSFW Interlude) The Nightmare

The stink of lust was the first thing she remembered. She was floating, insubstantial. Her own body was nowhere in sight.

But she knew what this place was, the roars of pleasure and cries of protest told her everything she needed to know.

This was the lair of the Gilded Circle.

She was in a large, elaborately decorated chamber, silk of the finest pastel fluttered, hanging in fine but ruined archways. Strewn all across the ground before her were torn clothes and discarded armor and weapons. She recognized the gear as what her village warriors used.

‘Noo!, No moore, no MORE!!’

Ingrid began to float through the old hallway...and into the scene of an orgy!

She entered a large circular room, strewn about were many Silken and hide-covered beddings, and upon each one a group of debauched cultists attacked the women of Ingrid's village.

In chains and naked were the toned bodies of the hamlet's defenders, now mere playthings to the cults base ranks. Laughing men with unnaturally glowing genitalia jostled with each other. Looking for the slightest opening for physical contact with the chained women.

Hands groped and pinched muscled legs and firm breasts, tongues ran and probed soft contours, tasting sweat and texture, Words of lewd and perverse desires timed with hard thrusts and grinds, and with roars of climax, milky semen flowed into fleshy openings.

In one bedding, she saw Signa Vemeas, one of the village's fastest shots with the bow, a proud and strong Nord woman who had been well loved.  
Here, in this place, she was on her hands and knees, as two cultists took her from both front and rear. Another was the young assistant to the town's Priestess to Shor. Arms Strung up as another Hedonite gripped both her legs as he roughly took her womanhood.

All of the women were exhausted, the attentions had been non-stop for many hours, but the Hedonites, tainted by the Daedric Lord Sanguine itself, had near insatiable appetites for sex, and an unnatural stamina to partake in it.

Ingrid’s sight was drawn to one of the victims, a long silky leg jutted out from between two crazed cultists. She heard the clinking of her chains as the rapist slammed himself between her thighs.  
Her sight was pulled close to the crotches of the woman and the attacker, she watched as a glistening penis plunged repeatedly into a sore vagina, already leaking the spendings of previous cultists, as she pulled slowly back the Hedonite climaxed, shouting out as a stream of fluid leaked onto the bedding below.

A few streaks of the women's long blonde hair could be seen, draped over the fancy pillows. Ingrid realized who this was.

“Helgi?!”

Ingrid recognized her as the wench and barkeep from the village's tavern. Her own beauty had landed her that job in the first place, and Ingrid remembered several times when the woman put on a naughty performance with low cut bar gowns, showing a little more leg than really needed. She was playful and risque, but she did not deserve this fate.

Ingrid found herself being pulled away from the debauched scene, the vision clouded and shifted as the location changed. The sounds of moans, yelps, and cries fading away.

Once her vision cleared, she found herself floating within another large chamber, similarly decorated, but in the center of this room was only one victim.

Freywin, chained naked to an extra large bedding. Her long red hair fanning out over the hide mattress.

Her face seemed to stare up at the ceiling blankly, but she was not alone, Ingrid’s gaze landed upon the groups of nude female figures arranged around the edges of the chamber.

Baying a wagging their tongues at her sister, where the Succubi. Their hands appeared to slide down some invisible barrier. But the looks on their faces showed they were very eager to reach her.  
The vampiric women catcalled and shouted, cries of desire and thirst echoed across the chamber, some of them were stimulating each other, a distraction while they waited for the main event.

“Freywin?!....I’m...I’m coming for you! Hold on!”

Obviously, she, nor any of the creatures could hear her, but her attempts to reach out were suddenly cut short, behind her, Ingrid sensed an enormous presence.

She turned her ethereal form slowly, and was greeted by a horror she had never conceived could exist.

She Unfurled her enormous, dragon-like wings, the shadows stretching across the wall of the chamber.  
Atop a face of great beauty was two long horns, elaborately curled.  
The creature stood at least ten feet tall, the figure of an alluring nude female, but with wickedly taloned and scale coated lower arms and hands.

Her eyes radiated a hunger no mortal could ever hope to sate. The creature leered down at Freywin as the power of the goddess started to radiate off of her where she lay.

The Succubus Queen Elahmia, a daughter of Coldharbour.

Smiling, the Queen extended a taloned hand forward, pointing it at Freywin, with a gesture her sister started to moan in arousal.  
The other succubi lost control as they watched their queen stimulate her sister magically. Screaming in lust, smashing their hands on the barrier blocking them.

“Freywin?! Fight this!!”

Ingrid could only stare at her twin.

“...somehow.”

The Captive Nord woman's breasts started to leak a glistening, ethereal fluid, She spread her legs wider, seemingly offering herself as her massive spiritual aura radiated out the chamber.

She looked up as the queen bellowed. Licking her lips.She raised her other hand towards the barrier.

“Sisters! Our special plaything is hot and ready! Drink deeply! Savour every drop of her passion!”

Her arm dropped suddenly, with a large crack the barrier keeping the baying groups of sexual vampires at bay fell.   
All as one the succubi screeched, racing towards the naked figure chained before them, the hand of the nearest vampire grasped out toward one of Freywins breasts…..

Ingrid’s eyes opened.

She felt her heart hammering in her chest at the nightmare she had just had.

She sat up from her bedroll. Looking around the long abandoned wood shack she had found the day before.  
She wanted to tell herself that the dream was just a figment of her own spiritual psyche. That the depravities she witnessed being inflicted upon her kin, and the Colossal monster orchestrating them, were just her own mind going through still raw emotions.

But deep down, she knew the truth. The place was real, that giant vampire was real.

….and Freywin was at the mercy of those debauched vampires, enduring their perversions and depravities.

How long could she survive them, how long could she hold out?!

“Gods...Divines?! Give me strength! Help me through this!”

She looked over at the magical cloak that Mother Senna and Sister Jolene had given her to wear when she did not need the sigils.

Picking it up, she examined it closely. Unfurling the thin orange fabric.

The Orange Hood and cloak. The well-known symbol of the Markarth sisterhood.

Like the shorter, more common ones the rest of the sisterhood wore, Ingrid’s was decorated in the usual symbols of fertility, passion and other depictions. But Unlike the others, Freywins was longer, had several small enchantments that caused it to seemingly disappear when Ingrid mentally recited a spell, and the cover came with various pouches and pockets and harnesses for storage and holding her weapon.

The cloak, more a covering, had small breast and loincloth pieces loosely attached for modesty’s sake. Though Tamriel didn’t look down upon nudity anywhere near the level that the now repressive Thalmor of the Summerset isles did, it still wasn’t considered appropriate to walk around naked in cities and towns.  
For Ingrid however, she needed that nudity. The sigils now tattooed on her skin needed the contact with the open air to work properly and fully.

She could not rely on most physical armor to protect her. She had the dwarven greaves and gauntlets that sister Jolene had given her, and of course the ancient neckpiece of the Tribal Dibellans. But that was it.

Magical armor wasn’t unusual, however. Wizards all over Tamriel used spells and wards all the time to protect them from attacks, physical and magical.  
But Ingrid’s sigils didn’t source their energy from a Magicka pool within her mind. She would not run dry of energy in a fight,  
It was focused by a divine source, however. Her reverence and commitment to Dibella meant she was dependent upon her aid now.

‘Dependant upon the aid of a goddess with a history no one really knows anything about!’

She threw the cloak over herself and equipped her gear. Pushing the distractions from her mind she took out the map that Mother Senna had given her before she departed the Markarth temple.

Sister Jolene had initially wanted to accompany her, but the Revered Mother needed her at the temple with the Sibil. The damage apparently caused by mother Hamal was extensive, and still needed attending to, and with the Gilded Circle continuing it activities, Mother Senna needed all the sisters to spread the warning to the provinces Jarls and Thanes.

Sister Jolene had been sent on the long journey to Solitude, to warn whoever was still in charge about the newest threat. With no High King and the Stormcloak Rebellion’s Heroic leader now lying cold in Windhelm’s Hall of the Dead. Skyrim was in Turmoil.

It was now a new power struggle, between the Stormcloaks second in command, Galmar Stonefist, and Jarl Elisef, Skyrim’s well loved leader of Solitude, and widow of the last high king.

Sister Jolene would have her hands full.

Ingrid finished gathering her gear. Equipped and ready, she stepped out into the morning sun.


End file.
